“No.” He shrugs out of my touch. Though I try to hold my ground, his chair is forced back into my gut, giving him the room to slip from the seat. I stifle a groan and stagger back from the sheer force of the blow. “No, she is already being summoned. Another thing ruined.” His teeth are bared, and he speaks as if this one thing is ruining our perfectly boring lunch, not his childish temper tantrum.
My father’s sanity worsens every day, and I fear what might become of my country if I cannot save it from his failing mind.
“Turns out you’ll get to meet our sister a little sooner than you thought,” Basilus whispers, nudging Prince Dalziel, a smug grin stretching across his face.
3
Violence
Unlawful detainment of the living,that’s the crime I’ve committed.
The punishment for hunter or huntress of the Wild Hunt for capturing a live soul can be at the minimum, a public whipping until their flesh is torn open, or at most, death. Every nervous wave of shivers that courses through me is a reminder of that.
Not that anyone’s ever been stupid enough to do it. No, lucky me, I am the first.
Only two things can summon the Wild Hunt. Death or judgment for crimes committed. There is hardly any time for me to even consider what might become of me past that first initial thought as my breath is taken from my lungs. Magic yanks us from this forgotten corner in Fallen right into the Dark Palace. The invisible veil that surrounds us is ripped away, leaving behind a biting sensation like a thousand hornets stinging every available inch of my skin.
Now we stand in plain sight.
All I want is to be hidden away again as I recognize the raven-shaped doors that lead into King Melic’s meeting room. The black paint absorbs all the light; only the eyes of the birds reflect like mirrors that judge us from their height.
Shifting footsteps resound in the empty hall as we—I—await my judgment. Jeriko, Carver, Nollix, my newly acquired soul, and I are waiting for my father’s appearance. The glossy ebony tiles nearly bleed into our black boots. The lighting is brighter here than I’m used to. It’s nothing like warm sunlight and soft stars. Electricity invades my sight and highlights every natural flaw I possess. I rub at the black scar along my knuckles.
“Stop pacing. It’s not like your father will skin you alive for accidentally stealing someone’s soul,” Carver says in a reassuring voice that doesn’t comfort me one fucking bit.
I continue my slow pacing, spiraling into quiet panic.
He acts like this was just a small blunder. Apparently, pulling a living person into the in-between world of the Wild Hunt is on the same scale as spilled milk in Carver’s eyes. Stupid man.
My father would kill me for less. The King of the Court of Darkness has many heirs, and I’m the least favorite, the only girl. Not that I’m sulking about it.
“She was probably going to die anyway,” Carver adds, running a hand through his dirty blonde hair.
“Yeah, I’m right here if you could not talk about my death like that.” Cameron cocks a brow at Carver, and he gives her a side-look of disinterest.
“Cameron was not going to die,” I say, my fingers picking at my bottom lip as I remember the way her magic shook through the earth itself.
“What did you just say?” Nollix tilts his head toward me while Carver and Jeriko exchange surprised looks. On slow steps, he stalks up to me. Butterflies are let loose in my stomach. He stops me in my tracks and forces me to look him in his fuming eyes with a hooked finger under my chin. His touch is calloused and rough. The color of his gaze is like a shadow over the deepest part of the ocean. His eyes are beautiful but always shining with more anger than I can handle.
“You can talk? I’ve watched you mouse around us for three years, and this whole time you could talk?” He looks me up and down like he’s never really laid eyes on me. “We weren’t good enough for you?”
His height is intimidating, the sharp angle of his tightly held jaw is intimidating. Every single thing about this Fae is bloodyintimidating.
But it doesn’t stop me from shoving past his arrogant ass to spiral into my thoughts again. It isn’t easy to push past him. Colliding with him is like colliding with a brick wall. I can feel my shoulder already aching as I slam against his side.
He takes a step away with a snarl, finding a spot against the wall to lean and watch with judgmental eyes.
What will my father do to me? What cruel punishment will he think up next?
He already sentenced me to a life of death. What more can he do?
Something inside of me is still that frightened little girl, the girl who whispers back to me that he could find several more creative ways to torture me.
“What will happen to me?” Cameron asks, her attention shifting over the walls of the hall.
She tried to run. They always do. But something always pulls them right back to us. It’s a magnetic thing, like their souls are drawn to death once their bodies no longer ground them.
Cameron is a little different, though. I hear her heart almost as loudly as I hear my own. She’s solid, not at all a blinding apparition. Still, the girl can’t make it five feet away from me without stumbling back like a pleading ex-boyfriend. At least I have that to entertain me.
